


Another

by hannigramcracker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drug Abuse, I am so sorry, I wrote this in an hour, M/M, Overdosing, Pills, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly Mischa's birthday and Hannibal can't handle his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MemoryPalaceofWillGraham (JaxCat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxCat/gifts).



> Please heed the warnings. Also listen to Lithium by Evanescence while you read this.

Another pill slips past his lips, the third in two days. That isn’t a lot. No, not really. But he doesn’t need this. He _shouldn’t_ need this. This has never been him, not once. He was above the crutches that his patients needed. He always had been above that, has always held himself to a higher standard than them. He is better than them.

He was.

He used to be.

He was so alone now, he had no idea what he was doing. Everything was too much without these tiny coated pills. Everything was just a swirl of color, a rush of memory that he couldn’t wipe clean. Every face he saw was caked with dirt and blood, dead or dying, nothing but decay - a matted mess of blonde curls that used to spring and shine in the light. Every voice he heard was nothing but hers, the sound of wind chimes tinkling in a light breeze - _anniba, anniba_ \- shouted with a smile. But the light breeze turned to a tumultuous storm, the chimes clanging against each other, clattering, crashing to the floor. Shattering into a thousand pieces, like the thousands of teacups he had smashed in her wake. _Anniba-_

Gone, gone forever because he was too young. He was not strong enough, and it would never matter how strong he was now, because now was not then - not when it mattered. And there was nothing he could do to make it matter. He could never go back, never change the outcome regardless of how much he tried.  

Another pill.

Will was waiting for him, in the bed just beyond the oak door. He needed to go out to him, but he could not make himself. Hannibal could not stomach the thought of lying awake in that bed all night, with her whispering in his ear.

It was nearly her birthday, the stroke of midnight would mark it. He could still remember the last gift he had gotten her. It was just a small collection of stories, fairy tales. She had been thrilled and insisted that he read them all to her as soon as he opened it. He tried to convince her to space them out - let him read her one before bedtime each night, but she would hear nothing of it. So they sat in the soft grass beneath a large tree and Hannibal read her each and every story to her. She laughed and gasped in all of the appropriate places as she listened to the words and watched the butterflies float along the tops of flowers across the yard.

She had still begged him to read her another story that evening before bed, and each night for the next few weeks.

And Hannibal had.

Of course Hannibal had. He would deny her nothing, he couldn’t.

And yet he had let her down when she had needed him the most. He was not strong enough and that was something he would never be able to shake.

Another pill.

How many was that? Three? Four? He had lost count. The edges of his mind felt fuzzy and his fingertips buzzed with _something_.

He could hear Will shifting around in the bed outside. He was becoming antsy, anxious for Hannibal to join him. Hannibal wondered how long it would take for Will to say something to him.

He almost felt guilty for this. Hannibal was supposed to be strong for him, as well. And he wasn’t. This was the lowest he had ever felt. He couldn’t support himself, couldn’t support Will. He was just as mentally broken as Will was, and that hurt him to admit. He was letting Will down by doing this, but he could not face his lover again. Not like this.

What if something happened to Will? Something that was his fault? Something entirely preventable, and yet something that he was powerless to stop?

He always hurt everyone he had ever loved, always lost them all. Each and every one of them. He could not be responsible for any harm coming to his dear Will.

Another pill.

Foggy, Hannibal examined his thoughts. This was not at all how he usually saw things, not the way his mind usually travelled. Could he blame it on the pills? Weren’t they supposed to help these feelings? They weren’t working. Why weren’t they working?

He closed his eyes and the sharply tiled bathroom turned into a dingy loft, overlooking the bottom floor of a cabin. His chest constricted, chained to the banister. Hannibal looked over his shoulder, and there she was. Huddled against cold wood, clutching one tattered blanket to her chest. He could feel her shivers against his bones though they weren’t touching.

A shuffling noise beside him and his head whipped around. Will was sitting chained next to him as well, dirty and starving as he was. Will was nothing but bones, nearly naked and shivering harder than his sister was.

Icicles tangled in both of their hair and he knew he was losing them both. Hannibal thrashed against his chains, but the bodies on either side of him turned to skeletons in a harsh crackle and burst of light and air, a hollow thready scream.

Something warm now being pushed past his lips as laughter resounded around him.

The ones he loved always tucked neatly away inside him.

He chased the taste away with another pill.

“Hannibal, please come to bed. Don’t make me sleep alone.” Will spoke to deaf ears. Hannibal heard him from a thousand miles away. He was already buzzing and zipping away from reality, rapidly floating from any plane of cognizant existence.

His memory palace crumbled around him. Up in flames, down in smoke. Flooded, frozen. Cracked marble floors and broken glass. The only thing still left was a tiny stilted echo of what used to be and what could have been. Her voice permeated each room. He had to wash it out somehow. 

Another pill.

All he could see was blonde hair, tangling and falling all around him. The icicles that had seemed to grow from it melting and cracking away as he grew closer. He could almost see his breath, but her smile was warm as the sun. It was sad, her eyes even sadder as she whisked him away. His smile burst from his teeth, crackling his cheeks open, his eyes wet.

Leaving one love into the arms of another. Hannibal’s last thought was given to the poetry of the statement. He was always one to find beauty in death, always one to give death beauty. It seemed fitting, seemed right, that he was the one to take his own life. He had never truly given in to the dramatics of suicide, always thought it tacky and bulky and cliche and more work that it was worth. But now, like this, in the arms of his tiny sweet yellow and purple angel, his mind changed.

As Hannibal danced once more with his sister, his soul in the air, finally at peace, finally finding happiness, Will had fallen asleep in the bed. Hannibal sometimes left the bed for long periods of time and Will never pressed.

Perhaps tonight he should have, but he would not know that until the morning when the bed was still empty, the sheets on the other side cold. The floor cold, the air itself cold. Ice seeming to grow and crystallize around the cracks in the doorway to the bathroom.

Hannibal, inside lifeless, two words hanging in the air for Will, hoping - _knowing_ \- he would understand somehow, with all of his perceptiveness.

I’m sorry - -

_ Darling, I forgive you after all.  _

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been betaed even a little and I am sorry.


End file.
